


with our bare hands

by Muir_Wolf



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: F/F, Post-Reichenbach
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-11-17
Updated: 2012-11-17
Packaged: 2017-11-18 21:45:15
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 642
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/565620
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Muir_Wolf/pseuds/Muir_Wolf
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Molly's never been good at going after what she wants.</p>
            </blockquote>





	with our bare hands

Sarah calls Molly, after. She asks about John, so Molly tells her: tells her that he isn’t all right, but maybe he will be. Maybe he won’t, she thinks but doesn’t say, and if Sarah hears the hesitation in her words she doesn’t call her on it.

Sarah, too, has been fielding calls from overeager journalists determined to get the inside scoop. She asks how Molly’s handled it, but Molly - as always - is flying under the radar. Even though she dated Jim. Even though it was _she_ that Sherlock - well. No one ever has seen Molly all that clearly.

Molly surprises herself when she asks if she’d like to come over for a cuppa, but Sarah had asked her how Molly was doing, and no one’s yet asked her that. When they’ve asked her, they’ve asked how John is and what they can do for John. _“And you, Molly?”_ Sarah had asked quietly, and Molly had listened to the background hum of the phone line and tried to parse words into sentences with little success.

So Sarah comes. They sit on Molly’s small sofa and Molly holds the chipped cat mug and Sarah holds the Hermione mug that Molly had impulsively slipped into her basket and bought because everyone needs a bit more mettle, and Hermione always managed that, didn’t she? Molly starts to put on some music, but fidgets between classical or jazz or the Billy Joel she really wants but maybe doesn’t want to admit to wanting. Molly’s never been the best at going after things. 

Sarah solves the issues by pulling the cd out of her hands and slipping it in, and then she asks her, again, _“how are you?”_ And Molly knows she doesn’t have any right to grieve - she doesn’t, really, not with what she knows - but there’s still a pit in her stomach that she doesn’t know how to brush away, and she’s never been as good at lying as she’s needed to be.

Sarah takes her hand, though, and maybe words aren’t as necessary as she thinks, because Sarah hasn’t once asked her if Sherlock really did it, really was as awful as the world is so determined to think, and maybe that means she isn’t here for lies or half-truths or opinions Molly can’t allow herself to voice. Maybe Molly doesn’t have to lie tonight. Maybe she can swallow the words back and pretend that life goes on and that grieving is something other than waiting and lying and pretending and hoping. Sarah’s thumb brushes against the back of Molly’s hand, and she runs her other hand down the length of Molly’s hair, almost petting her.

“I’m so sorry, Molly,” she says.

And it’s odd, Molly thinks, to hear condolences addressed to her, as if Molly’s allowed any real stake in this, as if she’s allowed a role that brings her out of the shadows. But Sarah looks at her warmly, and for a moment Molly feels as if she could be on center stage.

Later, Sarah will convince her that cans of spray paint and dark clothes are all part of the healing process, and they’ll tuck their long hair up and creep out into the night, hand in hand, and when Molly whispers she’s afraid Sarah will tell her that she’s there and she isn’t going to leave her.

Later, Molly will think about the way Sarah stumbled over the words _“John said you were in love with him”_ and _“I thought you might need someone”_ and wonder why Sarah was so sure she fit the job description.

Later Molly will lean in, giddy with adrenaline and guilt, and hook her arm through Sarah’s as they disappear into the darkness, red paint splattered on their black gloves.

Molly’s never been the best at going after what she wants, but she’s getting better.

**Author's Note:**

> Written & posted on tumblr April 26, 2012


End file.
